He didn’t know how long he’d sat in the dark, but Renard knew it had been too long. But he’d realized a few things, as he often did. For instance, it was in the dark under their beach house that young Renard realized he wasn’t the reason the women came and went. It was because his dad always tried to juggle two, three, or four at once.

And hero or not, he’d promised to help. Sitting in a dark crevice of the basement was not helping. He made his way to the stairs, dodging obstacles in the dim light in his uncanny way. Still deep in thought he started up the stairs, so it should come as no surprise that he practically ran into Izzy as she was descending.

“Bonito? I…oh, you poor…” she started.

“No. Non. Nein,” Renard cut her off, “You doon’t haf to. I em a man. I shood not have run, but I em d-done.” He paused, let a tic pass, and gave his cheek a gentle slap. “I haf a tic. Thet’s why I do that.” She smiled understandingly, so he continued, “Come, there is much to do. I haf a plan.”